Promised Prince
by Casiple's Castle
Summary: Jon Snow rose from the blaze of the pyre, hair and eyes burning, skin blistered but unburnt, brandishing a flaming Valyrian steel sword. The look on Alliser Thorne's face was one of disbelief and dread and Melisandre smiled. "Fire cannot kill a dragon, Alliser Thorne." she told him and walked away.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N** : I just finished Season 5 and I am so excited for the next season. Important and awesome things are happening and I can just feel the climax of this plot building on itself. It's very thrilling to anticipate where the story will go next and I'm more than happy that finally things are looking up for the Starks. For those who love to speculate theories about Azor Ahai and Jon Snow's parentage then you'll probably be interested with this fic. Or maybe not. Don't want to assume anything.

 **Disclaimer** : Game of Thrones is not mine.

 **Summary** : Jon Snow rose from the blaze of the pyre, hair and eyes burning, skin blistered but unburnt, brandishing a flaming Valyrian steel sword. The look on Alliser Thorne's face was one of disbelief and dread and Melisandre smiled. "Fire cannot kill a dragon, Alliser Thorne." she told him and walked away.

* * *

"Build the Lord Commander a pyre." Alliser Thorne commanded quietly, the title rolling off his tongue with disdain.

The men moved without protest until one remained. The boy gripped his dagger so tight his knuckles were white. He gazed down on Jon Snow's empty eyes and tears fell down his cheeks from his unblinking eyes. Alliser put a hand on his shoulder and stirred him away.

Edd came running down from the parapets, his eyes wide with disbelief and anger.

"What have you done?" he hissed. Some of the men who noticed caught him before he could launch himself toward Alliser. "What have you done?!" he demanded more loudly.

None of the men can look him in the eye except for Alliser. Ser Davos strode purposeful strides towards them with Melisandre on his heels. He stopped short when he saw Jon Snow's body lying on the snow, his skin beginning to resemble his bastard name and eyes empty of life. Melisandre dared to come closer, disregarding Alliser's look of warning, and crouched down to touch Jon's cheek. Davos narrowed his eyes. Though he was currently using every ounce of honor in him not to run her through with his sword, he had the wits to take notice that the Red Woman taking interest in anyone, breathing or not, is never good.

"YOU FOOLS! ALL OF YOU! YOU HAVE DOOMED US ALL!" Edd cried out madly. Suddenly, a wolf cry erupted from the stables. Everyone froze and listened to the lament of the direwolf. The wood cried in protest as the wolf began to struggle with the locks of his kennel. Looks of panic can be seen on some of the men's faces. They were not looking forward to confronting the beast.

"Pray tell, Ser Dolorous Edd," Alliser spoke with scorn, ignoring the wolf's howling cries. "How have we doomed us all when we have just dealt with the bastard who let our enemies within the wall?"

"The White Walkers are coming, you fucking cunt!" Edd spat at him, struggling to break free. "And you just killed the man who could save us all!"

Alliser snorted and opened his mouth to reply when he was interrupted.

"He speaks truth, my lord." Melisandre said as she gracefully stood, her eyes burning.

"What nonsense is this?" Alliser demanded through gritted teeth, rounding on the priestess. "What can a bastard son of a dead lord do against the White Walkers?"

"Jon Snow may have been a bastard but he carried within him the blood of kings and the man who built this wall." Melisandre stated primly as if educating a child. She walked closer to Alliser whose gaze were as unflinching as the Red Woman's. "There is magic within these walls," she whispered but her voice carried throughout all the Watchers who betrayed their Lord Commander. "Magic that Jon Snow's ancestor casted to protect us from the darkness that lies beyond and you spilt his blood on its heart. You may not like what follows."

She strode pass him and Alliser was left to ponder. Edd had managed to shrug off the men that held him and went to Jon. He fell to his knees beside his friend and sighed hopelessly. Alliser left the grieving man behind and went to claim the seat of Lord Commander.

When dawn was fast approaching and the pyre was built, the rest of the Night's Watch had heard of the mutiny that had occurred. The men loyal to Jon Snow were angry and confused. Those who survived the voyage of Hardhome had paled and felt as if the coldest winds of winter had come to blow them away.

Jon Snow lay in a bed of wood and hay in the same clothes he'd been murdered in and with Longclaw on his chest. Ollie had retrieved the sword and was determined to burn it along with the man that had given him a purpose and the same man he killed. No one protested although Alliser had thought it an utter waste. He can always retrieve the Valyrian steel after the bastard is ashes, he suppose.

It was Edd who held the torch and thus, who spoke.

"He was a man of honor. A man of courage and strength. We turned to him when the night seemed darkest and he had delivered us from our enemies time and time again." he spoke loudly, his eyes angry. "When his family was butchered, he stayed and honored his vows. He protected us and suffered greatly for his efforts. He may have been named a Snow but his house's words ring true: winter is coming."

He lay the torch on the hay and passed it on to the next man when it caught the blaze. Pretty soon, the pyre burned greatly. Edd had stared tiredly on the flames, wondering how the fuck they were going to survive the end of the world without Jon Snow. It seemed impossible now that the last of the blood of the Starks had been murdered along with most of his family. Only one Stark remained in the world but soon, in the hands of the Boltons, she would perish too and the great line of the man who built the wall they swore to protect will be dead. The gasps and the retreating bodies caught his attention and he turned to see Ghost striding up the pyre with knowing red eyes. When the direwolf was close enough that the flames would have licked his snout, he howled loudly. Edd and the men around him had to cover their ears from the noise. Yet unlike the cries he made the night before, this resembled more of a war cry than grief for his master.

Alliser Thorne was up on the parapet, watching detachedly.

"I told you, Lord Alliser." Melisandre appeared beside him. "You will not like what follows."

A scream erupted from the flames and the men stood back, eyes wide in fear and alarm.

Jon Snow rose from the blaze of the pyre, hair and eyes burning, skin blistered but unburnt, brandishing a flaming Valyrian steel sword.

The look on Alliser Thorne's face was one of disbelief and dread and Melisandre smiled.

"Fire cannot kill a dragon, Alliser Thorne." she told him and walked away.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N** : I have no idea what I'm doing. Honestly. I just wrote and wrote and wrote and hopefully this will make sense.

 **Disclaimer** : Game of Thrones is not mine.

 **Summary** : Jon Snow rose from the blaze of the pyre, hair and eyes burning, skin blistered but unburnt, brandishing a flaming Valyrian steel sword. The look on Alliser Thorne's face was one of disbelief and dread and Melisandre smiled. "Fire cannot kill a dragon, Alliser Thorne." she told him and walked away.

* * *

Jon was walking through the streets of Winterfell.

He passed through the training grounds and saw Robb smiling widely with Theon and Ser Rodrick, practice swords held loosely on their hands as they spoke. Arya and Bran were chasing each other with little Rickon right on their heels, his tiny legs exerting extra effort to keep up with his older siblings. Sansa was with their mother. Lady Catelyn was smiling fondly down at her children and Sansa was talking to her mother, smiling and beautiful as she'd always been.

Jon had never felt more at home and alien in his life.

He carried on as if all of this was just a beautiful tapestry, memorable and beautiful but unreal and just a fixture on the wall.

The Stark catacombs was dark and humid but eerie and quiet. He walked pass generations of people he shared blood with but never a name. One by one, stoic empty granite face after another, he reached the one statue with a crown of blue roses and a candle lit on her outstretched hand. Eddard Stark stood in front of her, his eyes sad and longing.

"I promised her," he whispered.

"Father?" Jon asked. He had been expecting to startle the man as he had been quietly creeping closer, like a ghost, but alas, his father only smiled. Ned turned and looked at him with so much love and fondness, Jon was taken aback. His father had always been warm but reserved towards him and never openly loving. He had always suspected it was because of Lady Catelyn and his status as a bastard but now that he that he had his father's attention, it made his heart stutter and had never missed him more than now.

"Jon." Ned said and Jon went to stand beside him, looking up to the statue of a beautiful but dead woman that was his sister.

"What was she like?" he found himself asking.

"Wild and stubborn," Ned told him, smiling fondly. "Yet she was kind and strong and loving."

Jon smiled. "Like Arya."

"Like you." Ned said quietly and he looked at Jon with the same love and fondness again only now Jon realized that it wasn't for him but for someone else and his father sees it through him.

Jon was puzzled. "How can she be like me? I'm just your bastard."

Ned's eyes became sad again. "I'm sorry, Jon. Please, forgive me."

Jon opened his mouth to ask what was there to forgive when the candle blew out and they were plunged into darkness.

* * *

He hears screaming, like a man was being flayed alive.

There were voices all around him. Some were frightened and some were angry. Some were placating and some spoke of a great destiny. Jon didn't understand any of them.

The only thing he knows for certain is the pain and his own screams echoing through his own ears and he screams as if he's being flayed alive.

* * *

He stood in the middle of the woods with only the glow of the moon as light, metal clanking can be heard from somewhere behind a tree. He walked around it and saw a woman stripping herself of her armor in the shadow of the tree.

"Who are you?" a voice demanded from behind Jon and he twisted around. He saw a man of silvery hair and purple eyes, armor glinting even in the moonlight. The woman stilled and stepped into the light. She had soft dark hair that framed her beautiful wild face and with eyes that seemed to mirror Jon's. For a moment, Jon thought she was Arya but the man spoke again.

"Lyanna Stark." he whispered like a prayer.

* * *

"Jon, it's all right. Rest, now." That was Sam.

"Whatever he is, he should be destroyed." That was Alliser Thorne.

"And how will you do that? Stab him a couple more times?" That was Edd.

"The lad is right. If you tried to kill him, burn him and failed, I think the point here is he isn't meant to die." That was Ser Davos.

"He has a great destiny ahead of him." That was Melisandre. He can feel a hand caressing his cheek and the warmth was a welcome from the constant nothingness and the cold.

The world fell eerily silent like a hollow ringing in your ears as she spoke the next words.

"What was promised is soon coming," she whispered. "For the night is dark and full of terrors."

* * *

Jon followed his father up the tower.

He carried a bloody sword and he was younger than Jon remembered, almost as old as he was. Howland Reed was not far behind when his father barged into the room and saw Lyanna Stark's defeated face. She was pale and sickly and dying. Ned threw his sword on the ground and sat beside her on the bed, his face was as ashen as hers and panicked. A squirm could be detected from Lyanna's blankets and Ned turned to see a newborn on her side.

"Ned," she whispered. "Ned, please."

"Lyanna," he didn't seem to hear her. His gaze was locked on the infant, his eyes disbelieving and wide. When Lyanna put a hand on his cheek, his eyes alighted with anger and he saw all the blood on his sister's bed.

"He did this to you." he seethed.

"No," she said firmly. "No, he didn't, Ned."

He didn't believe her and she gripped his face a little more firmly so he looked her in the eye.

"I loved him." she whispered, her voice cracking. "I loved him, Ned."

Ned tensed and his face was beginning to resemble a storm.

"I'm sorry." Lyanna cried. Her breathing was haggard from both the blood loss and the tears that constantly flowed down her face. Jon wanted to tell his father to save her, to move and help her. But Ned Stark remained frozen like the ice on the wall and tense like a taut bowstring. "I'm so sorry."

Ned felt a droplets on his cheek and realized that his salty tears are dripping down his face and splashed on his sister's bloodied sheets.

"Promise me, Ned." she whispered, weaker now. "Promise me you'll take care of my son."

"Lyanna—"

"No, swear to me." she cried. "Take care of him, please."

Ned could only nod.

"Promise me, Ned."

"I will, Lyanna. I promise"

Lyanna smiled one last smile and her eyes dimmed and saw no more.

* * *

Blood was on the battlefield.

Men screaming as they died could be heard from all around them. The prince with the silver hair and purple eyes were among the dying and as he lay to take his final breath, he uttered a name.

"Lyanna."

And Jon felt the full force of the pain that was dealt by the hammer of Robert Baratheon.

* * *

"What will you do now, Ned?" Howland asked in the dead of night, the tower was silent as the dead. Ned held the boy in his arms and he was stoic, questions swirling in his eyes. When Ned didn't reply, Howland spoke again. "I can take him with me. What's remained of the Targaryens are being smuggled to the free cities. I can take him to them."

"No." Ned said.

"Ned, he is the son of—"

"I know whose son he is!" Ned snapped. "He is the son of my sister. He is a Stark."

"But he is not all Stark, is he?" Howland countered. "If Robert knew, he would kill the boy. No matter who his mother is."

"He is a Stark and he belongs in the North." Ned insisted, voice firm and yet it dropped into a quieter one when he continued. "I will raise him as one of my own. I promised."

Howland sighed and relented. "What will you name him?"

Ned was quiet for a long time that Howland thought he wouldn't answer. But he did.

"Jon." Ned said. "Jon Snow."

* * *

He was standing on the entrance of the Godswood in Winterfell.

He saw him sitting by the heart tree, Ice in hand and head bowed. Jon approached him and Ned Stark smiled that same smile in the crypts.

"Hello, Jon." he greeted.

"My lord." Jon replied.

"I am your blood, boy." Ned said. "There's no need for formalities."

"But you're not my father, are you?" Jon said. Ned sighed.

"Come," he gestured for Jon to come closer. "Sit with me."

"I'm fine from where I'm standing, thanks." Jon said, voice tight and crisp.

Ned deliberated for a few moments, looking pained, before speaking.

"I may not be your father but you are my family." Ned said. "You've always been like a son to me, Jon."

"Is that why you've been distant? It wasn't because of Lady Catelyn at all, was it?" Jon accused. "It was because you saw me and you saw her and the tragedy that befell your family. I was your burden."

Ned got up and his sword fell with a clang against the stone. He marched right up to Jon and held his shoulders, shaking him slightly.

"You were never my burden." he said firmly. "I lied to protect you from everyone. If anyone knew of who you are, we would've all been in danger. They would take you, use you or kill you and everyone in our family. I'm sorry, Jon. I'm sorry if I took away your birthright. That I gave you the name Snow instead of giving you your rightful due. I'm sorry that you felt alone and estranged from your own family. I'm sorry that you had to suffer all that you had. Please, forgive me."

Ned looked at the boy with pleading eyes to understand and Jon did. He may not have been his son but Ned knew that Jon was every bit as Stark as the rest of his trueborn children. He was his beloved nephew and he every bit as his mother. Jon was strong and brave like her. He understood the weight of leadership and considered the good of all people. He was honorable and kind and Ned couldn't deny that the boy would've made a fine prince of the realm if fate had been kinder.

"I'm tired." Jon confessed.

"I know, son." Ned said and patted the boy's cheek. "But you have to be stronger now. Winter is coming and you know what's comes with it. You know that the world will perish if they are not defeated."

"Why does it have to be me?" Jon asked, pleading.

"Because this is what you were born to do, Jon Snow." A voice said behind him. He turned and saw Ygritte, smiling at him as if she held a secret he didn't know. His breath caught in his throat. She wore the same thick furs and a quiver slung at her back.

"What's the matter?" she taunted. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

"Ygritte." he whispered. He stumbled away from Ned and caught her in his arms. He embraced her tightly against him and she kissed the side of his neck. She pushed out of his embrace and she kissed him on his lips and Jon never wanted to go anywhere again without her by his side.

"Hello, Jon Snow." she whispered.

"If you're here, then am I dead?" he asked. It only occurred to him now that he might've been dead already. He remembered the pain and misery before nothing else and now he was here, talking to the dead.

"You know nothing, Jon Snow." she said fondly and it carried a secret that he was supposed to know but couldn't understand. Not yet.

"You're not dead." Another voice said and he turned back to his uncle and saw Robb Stark standing beside him. "Though by the looks of things, there's a mighty chance you will be."

When Robb grinned, Jon let out a laugh and a cry all at once. Ygritte gripped his hand tight to anchor him and he never felt so happy.

"Jon," another voice and from behind Robb came Catelyn Stark. Jon's smile dimmed from his face and he gave a small bow.

"My lady." he greeted. Catelyn shared a look between her husband and her son then came forward to where Jon and Ygritte stood.

"Considering you are a prince and I am merely a lady of the North, you need not bow to me." she jests as she stops before them. The smile dropped from her face and her eyes became sad. "I'm sorry, Jon."

"There's no need to apologize—"

"Oh, but there is." she cuts him off. "I was a horrible woman. I was selfish and petty. You were innocent of any sin yet I blamed you. I spoke horrible words to you. All because I couldn't look pass the lie that your father told me and I couldn't love you without hating you."

"He's not my father, my lady." Jon said, his voice thick.

Catelyn smiled. "Oh, but he is, boy. He is every bit a father to you as he is to Robb, Sansa, Arya, Bran and Rickon. Because of me, you grew up feeling estranged from the family that loved you dearly. I have a lot of apologies to make yet I know I can never have enough time to ask for your forgiveness."

Jon tentatively took Lady Catelyn's hand in his free one. Catelyn was surprised yet she didn't pull away and Jon felt his heart lurch in happiness so he smiled to let her know.

"I've always looked up to you, Lady Catelyn, and I always will." Jon said. "All is forgiven."

Catelyn smiled with tears in her eyes and she nodded.

"You raised him so well, Ned." Another voice said. Jon closed his eyes and knew if he were to never waken and he'd passed on, he would be happy. The happiest he'll ever be.

"Hello, my son." Lyanna Stark says and she raised her arms. Ygritte let go of his hand and he was engulfed by the scent of blue roses. He felt fingers threading through his hair and he laughed. He'd never smiled so much in life as he had in death.

"Mother." he whispered.

"You've been so brave and so kind." she tells him. "I am so proud of you."

"I never want to leave." Jon whispered to her. His mother pulled away and kept a hand on his cheek. "I want to stay here."

"I want that too, my love, but it's not your time. Not yet." she told him sadly. "You still have a destiny to fulfill."

"Why does it have to be me?" he asked again.

"Because you have the power to stop them. You and others. You are not alone in this, Jon." she tells him. "You will find happiness there too, my son, and when the time comes, you will rejoin us."

"I don't know if I can do it. I don't know how." he tells her.

"Then you really do know nothing, Jon Snow." Robb snickers from behind him. He turns back to his family. Ned, Catelyn, Robb and Ygritte. "It's you the world needs and whom the world has waited centuries to come. You took your sweet time, brother."

Jon smiles at him.

"You will not fail the world, Jon. Trust in yourself." Ned tells him. Jon nods and he turns back to his mother.

"It's time, my love." she says and her voice sounds distant. "We will see each other again."

That's when the pain consumes him.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N** : I'd just like to say that I am honestly surprised on how much reviews this story is getting. It's a pleasant surprise actually and thank you to all of those who gave me positive and very encouraging comments. But a little explanation then since I noticed a few of you guys have been asking me why that previews chapter turned out the way it did. Okay, first is why Rhaegar wasn't on that reunion. As you've noticed (or maybe not) that the reunion took place in a dream state version of the Godswood in Winterfell so I was thinking that since it was of the North then only people who believe in the Old Gods or of the North can show up. So, no Rhaegar. But don't worry. I want Jon to meet his dad too but in due time. Second, why Jon forgave Catelyn so easily. From what I understand of Jon's character is that he's honorable and kind and lonely. He grew up without a mother but he was surrounded by siblings who were loved by one and he was disliked by said mother figure. So, I think that Jon would've been more interested in gaining her approval, acceptance and love rather than becoming bitter and resentful towards her. Take Olly for example. He killed Ygritte, the love of Jon's life, and what did he do? He made the boy his steward. Jon is a very kind, honorable and just man (or boy). So, yeah. I reckon he'll probably forgive Catelyn as soon as she said "I'm sorry." I hope that made Now, we come to this chapter. So, I'm following the show, just so we're clear but I'm also following the theories based on the books and some of its plotlines. I know you guys are excited by Azor Ahai in this fic but I'll just warn you that I have not read the books and merely fed off on the theories so it might not be as accurate as you've been hoping for, to those of you who read the books. But, yes. Leave a comment about whatever comes to your mind.

 **Disclaimer** : Game of Thrones is not mine.

 **Summary** : Jon Snow rose from the blaze of the pyre, hair and eyes burning, skin blistered but unburnt, brandishing a flaming Valyrian steel sword. The look on Alliser Thorne's face was one of disbelief and dread and Melisandre smiled. "Fire cannot kill a dragon, Alliser Thorne." she told him and walked away.

* * *

Sansa stifled a scream when she saw the bone of her wrist protruding from her skin. She was lying on something wet and rough but warm. That's when she realized it was Theon Greyjoy, his haunted wide eyes were open but he had never looked so at peace, not since Sansa had saw him with her brother in what seemed like lifetimes ago.

"Theon?" she whispered with her hoarse voice. He didn't move. "Theon, we have to go! He's coming!"

Theon's blood was splattered on the ground and Sansa realized he had protected her from the fall. She pushed herself up with one hand, nearly crying out when she felt her ribs protest with the movement, while she cradled her broken wrist closer to her chest. She tried to see if there was still something she could do to save him but she wasn't a healer. She could see his bones bent out of shape and the back of his head had hit a stone on their way down.

"Theon, please!" she cried, shaking him with one hand but he was dead. She sobbed and covered her own mouth to keep silent. She sobbed in what seemed like a long time before hearing more riders coming back. She needed to move. With one last sob, she pushed herself, her ribs screaming in pain and stood. She can feel her injuries all over her body but she ignored them. Theon had died to save her, to help her escape, she will not waste it.

So, she ran. She ran into the woods filled with the dead. She can hear the bells within the walls ringing and she ran faster. She stumbled and she can feel the earth quaking. The riders had come out again to search for her.

 _Please, please, don't let them catch me_ , she prayed under her breath.

She nearly screamed when she heard two horses advancing toward her. She can feel them merely a few feet away when suddenly, one of the horses was hit by an ax. The other rider was surprised to see his comrade go down but another figure came out of the tree and pounced on him. The rider was impaled by a sword while the other was stabbed by a dagger. Sansa was stunned to see the lumbering woman from that tavern when she had been traveling with Petyr and Podrick Payne, Tyrion's squire.

"Lady Sansa." the woman said. Sansa stepped back, frightened.

"It's all right, m'lady." Podrick reassured. "We're here to save you."

"You're with the Lannisters." Sansa hissed. "Both of you."

"Before you Lady Mother died, she made me promise to deliver the Kingslayer to King's Landing and ensure your safe return." the woman explained. "I told you I've been searching for you to fulfill that promise, do you remember?"

Sansa nodded but still looked at Pod with suspicion. "Lady Brienne," she said as if remembering her name. "I remember. But what is he doing here?" Sansa sneered at Pod. "He works for the Lannisters."

"Lord Tyrion had me leave King's Landing when he was accused of killing the king, m'lady. I was no longer safe there. He had me traveling with Lady Brienne to search for you." he said.

"We don't have much time," Brienne said. "We have to move before they find us. Please, Lady Sansa."

Sansa reluctantly nodded. Brienne smiled and she sheathed her sword. Pod had retrieved his ax from the dead horse. She assisted Sansa to climb the only horse left and stirred the beast by the reins.

"We must go south immediately," Brienne said. "To one of your brother's bannermen who are still loyal to the North. The real North."

"No, we go further north." Sansa protested.

"But nothing's there, m'lady." Pod argued softly. "Only the Wall."

"Yes," Sansa said as she cradled her broken hand. "And my brother, Jon, is the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch."

* * *

They had stopped long enough for Brienne to fix her wrist. She had realigned the bones and Sansa had been thankful she had accepted the leather belt she was biting into to stifle her scream. When it was done and Brienne was wrapping her wrist, Pod gasped.

"M'lady." Pod says and points to the sky.

When Sansa looked up, she saw a bleeding star falling from the sky.

* * *

Tyrion was conversing with what seems to be the small council of Meereen when he received troubling news.

Missandei had looked surprised. "My lord," she says, translating for Tyrion. "There seems to be a red star falling from the sky."

Tyrion had looked shocked and his gaze locked with Varys. They immediately got up and went to the balcony. When he saw it, he felt chills shivering down his spine.

"The last time a bleeding star fell from the sky," Varys says casually. "The queen's dragons were born."

Tyrion narrowed his eyes.

"I wonder what could have been born to have warranted such omens." he pondered darkly.

"Something extraordinarily powerful." Varys answered.

* * *

Miles away from Meereen, Dany gasped as she saw the bleeding star fall and her heart thudded faster in her chest. No amount of pain her bounds caused her or fear from her captors can diminish the swell of curiosity and hope that spurred from her.

A dragon has been born.

* * *

He was looking up at the sky when he found him.

"Griff?" he calls out. He sees the bleeding star falling from the sky and his purple eyes widen at the sight. "What do you think it means?"

Griff or better known as Jon Connington quietly replied. "The prophecy has come to fruition."

* * *

When Jon woke up, he was less than pleased.

He remembers dreaming of a fire and snow. Men were gathered around as he pawed his way to that great big blaze and he screamed so loud but he never heard it. He only heard Ghost. He remembers dreaming of lying within a bed of flames and his sword. He remembers dreaming of being scared of burning alive and that his own men had killed him. He remembers dreaming of the smell of smoke and blood and bleeding stars falling from the sky.

He opened his eyes and the first thing he sees is Sam. He's frowns.

"Sam," he says hoarsely. "I thought you went into Old Town. What happened?"

Sam had tears in his eyes and Jon immediately tried to sit up and pain pierced his chest. He groaned.

"Easy, Jon, easy." Sam murmured as he pushed Jon back to bed.

"What happened?" he asked, momentarily confused why he was bandaged and then he remembered.

"Mind your stitches, Jon." Sam was telling him but he ignored him.

"It wasn't a dream." he murmured to himself. He met Sam's eyes and saw the look of guilt in them. "What happened?"

"Alliser and many others," Sam said, his voice quaking. "They tried to kill you, Jon."

"I did die." Jon murmured. "I did die, Sam. They stabbed me last night."

"Last night?" Sam said in disbelief. "Jon, it's been almost a week. It's been six days."

Jon's eyes went wide. "Six days?!"

"Edd sent some of the men down to me and we rushed back here immediately." Sam said.

"Edd?" Jon asked, only managing one syllabic sentences as of the moment.

"He's acting Lord Commander in your stead. The others and I have voted on it." Sam answered. "After the mutiny and what happened to you, we thought it best to appoint someone loyal to you and capable of leading."

"What of Alliser? Olly?" Jon asked.

"They're facing trial." Sam said. "But since you're the one they tried to kill and you're Lord Commander, Edd thought it would serve sweeter justice if you gave the order on what to do with them."

Jon nodded numbly at that.

"There's another thing, Jon." Sam said. "Your sister is here."

Jon's head snapped to attention at that. "What?"

"Your sister, Sansa, came here with two others." Sam explained. "She broke her wrist and some of her ribs are cracked but she's fine. She kept vigil by your side but I managed to convince her that she needed some rest. She's in the other room, sleeping."

"She's safe?" Jon needed to ask, his eyes beginning to water.

"Yes, she's safe." Sam assured. "I'll go get her."

Jon's hand shot out and stopped him. "No, let her rest."

"I promised her I'd wake her if you woke up." Sam insisted. "Besides, I think you both need each other after everything you've been through."

Jon conceded and let him go to get his sister.

When Sam left, Jon tried to sit up without upsetting his injuries. When he was leaning against the bedframe, he noticed something different with his blade.

Longclaw was leaned against the wall without its scabbard and Jon frowned in puzzlement.

The blade was now a shining deep red, like blood, and it glowed.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N** : I think I'll have to take a little hiatus after this chapter. I have a few exams coming up and I need to study so see you guys until then.

 **Disclaimer** : Game of Thrones is not mine.

 **Summary** : Jon Snow rose from the blaze of the pyre, hair and eyes burning, skin blistered but unburnt, brandishing a flaming Valyrian steel sword. The look on Alliser Thorne's face was one of disbelief and dread and Melisandre smiled. "Fire cannot kill a dragon, Alliser Thorne." she told him and walked away.

* * *

Sansa burst into the room in a flurry with tears in her eyes.

"Jon," she whispered and proceeded to embrace Jon. He was more than stunned but welcomed it. He wrapped his arms around his sister and sighed. He had never been particularly close with Sansa while they grew up. She took from her mother too much and when she was older and realized who he was, she had never been more than courteous with him. But now, seeing as they are both what's left of their family, Sansa clung to him like a lifeline, sobbing and smiling.

"I came to the Wall and they told me you almost died." Sansa said, her voice thick with tears. Then her eyes hardened like steel, her blue eyes colder than the northern winds. "Those cowards deserve far worse than death."

It had surprised Jon but he didn't let it show on his face. Sansa had always been so ladylike when she was a little girl that it unnerved Jon to see her so vengeful. But that had been lifetimes ago and she was no longer a little girl. Sansa had witnessed horrors as much as Jon did himself. It saddened Jon how much hurt she must have gone through to burn that innocence out of her.

"It's all right, Sansa." Jon placated her. "I'm all right."

"No, you're not, Jon." she said, shaking her head. "The men told me that you were dead. Ser Eddison Tollett told me you were stabbed six times. You were on a pyre! They were burning you when you rose from the flames. You're not even burned."

Those last words had been more to herself as she took in Jon's appearance. His hair was shorter. Sam had cut off the singed edges and his arms are covered in blisters. His torso and his chest were wrapped in bandages but the Red Woman had told Sansa that it would heal as if those wounds weren't lethal at all. He had a cut by his brows and he was paler than his usual color but other than that, there was no other sign that showed he had died.

Jon frowned. "I had a dream. No, a vision." he said. "I saw my mother."

Sansa stiffened. Jon's parentage had always been somewhat forbidden to be spoken about in their family. Even her mother had not known who Jon's mother was. Her father had been as silent as the dead and he seemed to have taken the secret with him to the grave. Until now.

"Who—who was she?" she asked tentatively.

Jon laughed humorlessly. He closed his eyes and his face contorted in pain. Sansa had risen up, looking panicked.

"Jon, are you all right?" she asked.

Jon nodded and he opened his eyes. His eyes looked older than he was. Jon had never been carefree but Sansa remembered him to be a lot less burdened when he left for the wall. The horror that they had witnessed and their loss both aged them greatly.

Sansa sat back down on the bed. He looked at Sansa and he smiled sadly.

"My mother's name was Lyanna Stark." he said.

"What?" Sansa said. "But father was your—"

"He was my uncle." Jon interrupted her.

"This doesn't make sense. How can he be your uncle? He claimed you as his son." Sansa denied.

"He lied to protect me. If Robert Baratheon knew who I was, he would have killed me and our family." Jon said. "My father was Rhaegar Targaryen."

Sansa's eyes widened.

"My mother loved him." Jon continued. "She was dying from birthing me in the Tower of Joy when your father found her. She made him promise to take care of me."

Sansa was silent for a few moments before her eyes lit up. "If this is true," Sansa said. "Jon, you're the rightful prince."

"I don't care." he told her. "The iron throne had caused nothing but misery to our family. I don't want it."

"You're the blood of the Starks and of the dragons," Sansa insisted. "Your claim is stronger than anyone's. You can end this game, Jon. You can unite the kingdoms and rule. You can build an empire of peace. You can avenge our family."

"My place is here, on the Wall." Jon said. "I made a vow. My place is here with my brothers."

"And they killed you." Sansa hissed. "Your vow ended the moment you died by your brothers' hands."

Jon frowned and then he sighed. "Sansa—"

The door burst open and in came Edd shortly followed by Sam. Edd was smiling like a fool and Jon smiled back minutely while Sam had a knowing grin on his face.

"The Lord Commander is finally awake, thank the gods." Edd said as he came forward, sounding as sardonic as ever. "Now, get all these responsibilities off me hands, eh? Before I chop someone's bloody head off."

Jon chuckled. Edd saw Sansa and he gave a short bow.

"Forgive me, m'lady. I had to see it for meself." he said. Sansa nodded at him.

"Not just yet, Edd." Jon said. He turned to Sam. "Gather all our brothers. I need to speak to them."

"You're not better yet." Sansa argued.

"We're running out of time, Sansa." Jon insisted. "Winter is coming."

Hearing her house's words had her nodding stiffly. She'd heard of the threat beyond the wall and knew those words are more than just a noble house's fancy. The long night is coming and the dead come with it. The world was ending.

* * *

Sansa excused herself while Jon dressed carefully. Sam and Edd had stayed to give him an account on what happened during the last six days.

"After they stabbed you, they built a pyre to burn you." Edd told him. "When we lit the pyre, Ghost had come and howled so loud. I don't even know how he got out of his stable. Then you just stood up, with Longclaw flaming on your hand and screamin' like you're burnin'. But you weren't. Your eyes were all white and you stepped out of the pyre. Then you collapsed. Ghost wouldn't let anyone come near you but me so I hauled you up and got other men we trust to help me, the wolf seemed fine with that. I sent some men to get Sam and your sister arrived and here we are."

Jon nodded, deep in thought.

"Tormund barged right up on our gates when he heard that you died with at least a hundred other wildlings." Edd continued. "They weren't pleased that the Watch murdered their savior. It caused a bit of a ruckus but we managed not to kill each other."

Jon sighed. "Where are they now?" he asked.

"They're still here. They want to make sure you survive." Edd scoffed.

"Like your very own kingsguard." Sam jested, laughing nervously and Edd snorted. A shiver ran down Jon's spine. It was too close for comfort. Jon took a deep breath and reached for his cloak. He groaned when the movement upset his wounds.

Sam came forward and helped him with it.

"Jon, are you sure about this?" he asked. "We can always do it tomorrow."

"No, Sam. I'm not sure." Jon said, looking Sam in the eye. "But it has to be done."

Sam nodded and he draped the cloak on his friend.

* * *

When he entered the pavilion, he was met with solemn faces both from his brothers and from wildlings alike.

Sansa was granted a seat on the high table on Jon's right, a token of respect to a Stark. Edd and Sam took their seats among their brothers. Ser Davos nodded to him from the side and Jon nodded back. Melisandre's face was unreadable when she stood primly on the other side, opposite to where Ser Davos was standing. Jon held her gaze long enough to nod respectfully before turning away. Tormund was seated on the back with wildlings who were permitted to join their meeting. His face looked relieved and angry at the same time. Brienne and Pod stood on the side of the high table, standing guard for the Lady Sansa.

"Brothers," Jon greeted. There was a moment of silence before it broke again.

"You died!" one of his brothers called out and a chorus of agreement broke out. Jon saw Tormund grip his ax just a little bit tighter.

"Aye, I did." Jon agreed and they grew quiet again. "How remains unclear to me. But we have bigger problems than that."

"I agree, Lord Commander." Melisandre spoke up. "The Wall is melting."

"What are you talking about, witch?" one of the brothers hissed.

There were other shouts of denial and disbelief. Melisandre's face is unreadable but Jon can tell she had much more to say so he held his hand up to quiet the men.

"Listen," she said when they fell silent. Then that's when they heard it.

The ice was moving.

It was cracking.

There was a shuffle of uneasiness in the room and looks of panic to those who had been in the battle of Hardhome. Jon's eyes widened and they found Melisandre's.

"Your brothers spilt the blood of Starks on Castle Black, the heart of the Wall. I warned Alliser Thorne of what may come to pass when he killed you." she said.

"We're doomed!" one of the men shouted. Panic was brewing among the men.

"Those traitors must die!" another one shouted. There was another chorus of agreements.

"What about Olly?" Jon spoke up. "He's just a child. Will you kill him too?"

"Jon, he stabbed you in the chest." Edd reminded him.

"I know what he did." Jon said and he let go of it for now. "But if the Wall is melting then the White Walkers are coming for all the realms. We can no longer stay here."

"So, we abandon the Wall?" one of his brother's shouted and many agreed with him.

"NO!" Jon exclaimed firmly. "We do not! But what good will we do if we die here? We cannot hope to defeat this alone. We must call upon the seven kingdoms. We must retreat to gather forces large enough to challenge the White Walkers."

There was a murmur of agreement and Jon held back a sigh of relief.

"Sam, send ravens throughout all the lords in Westeros. Have them know of the situation and make sure they take this as grimly as we do." Jon ordered and Sam nodded.

"I know that it's not my place but may I make another suggestion, Lord Commander." Ser Davos spoke up. Jon nodded and Davos continued. "There are rumors of a queen in Slaver's bay. A Targaryen queen with three dragons."

There was an uneasy silence that fell upon them all. Jon swallowed thickly.

 _You're not alone in this, Jon_ , his mother had said.

Davos gave Jon a meaningful look. "You'll be fighting creatures of ice. There's nothing more fitting than to have dragon fire to fight it."

"A Song of Ice and Fire." Melisandre supplied but she gave him a loaded look. Sansa gave him a sideways glance. "Ser Davos is right. There's nothing more fitting than to have a dragon prince fighting the long night with dragons to set flame through the darkness."

* * *

Silence reigned the Night's Watch and it was Ser Davos that broke it.

"A dragon prince?" he growled at the Red Woman.

"Only the blood of the dragon can survive a pyre, Ser Davos." she said. "There is no doubt that the Lord Commander is the prince that was promised."

"You speak of Azor Ahai!" Ser Davos retorted. "Didn't you once claim that King Stannis Baratheon, the one true king, was Azor Ahai?!"

"I was mistaken," Melisandre said.

"Mistaken?!" Ser Davos roared, looking about to cross the gap between them and kill her.

"I think that's enough, my lady, Ser Davos." Sansa told them coldly and they fell silent. Jon's fists were curled tightly. He looked angry. He had no intention of revealing his parentage.

"You're a Targaryen?" Edd asked in awe. When Jon turned to look at the men, all he saw was shock and fear. Tormund and the wildlings only looked confused. Sansa looked at him and he met her gaze. In her eyes, he saw that she was with him in whatever he chose to do. But he had no choice now. He must tell the truth before the lie stabs him in the back. Understanding what he was about to do, Sansa nodded minutely and sat up straighter, her eyes beginning to darken as she looked back to the crowd.

Jon sighed. "Yes." he said through gritted teeth. "I am."

Mayhem erupted.

"How can you be a Targaryen? They're all dead!"

"Son of the mad king!"

"You lie!"

"He survived the pyre, we all saw that! How can you still think he's lying?!"

"What does it matter?" Tormund exclaimed and everyone shut up.

"What does it _matter_?" one of the brothers scoffed. "He's a prince! He's the blood of the dragons! He's a Targar—"

"What. Does. It. _Matter_?" Tormund asked again, slowly while getting on his feet, brandishing his ax. The men of the Night's Watch shifted uncomfortably, their hands creeping to the hilt of their blades. "You southerners and your fucking kings. How will it matter when we're all dead?"

He snorted humorlessly when no one answered and he sat back down. "So, Jon Snow's a prince." he continued. "Your lot tried to kill your own prince."

There was another uncomfortable silence. Jon nodded minutely to Tormund, glad that it stirred the conversation away from his blood.

"What will you do with the traitors, Lord Commander?" Edd asked, his eyes darkening, remembering the brothers who stabbed their commander.

Jon took a moment before answering. "I will question them first." he said and he stood to leave, away from the prying eyes.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N** : So, hi again. This is actually sort of my cheat from studying or procrastination or whatever. I'm here. That's all that matters. But yes. To the people who Follow, Favorite and Comment on my fic, thanks guys. You don't know how much I appreciate it. It's been wonderful to be received this positively by loads of people. Haha. I noticed that quite a lot of you guys had been asking me if this is a Jon/Dany fic and the answer is NO. I'm sorry but I'm not a shipper nor do I think Jon would do such a thing especially since he knows that Dany is his aunt. Plus, he's still in love with Ygritte. I don't think he'll ever be over that. (I'm not even over it yet.) And for the people who gave me advice on the story, I'd like to say thank you and rest assured that I am doing all I can to incorporate it in my writing. So, I'd just like to say again that I haven't read the books yet, I only watch the show. Seeing that I still have exams coming up, I'm not sure when I can read the books or write because yeah. I just sneaked off the notes and the books to write because I can't help it. But must exercise discipline and aim for success and all that. The studying is really needed. So, you'll have to bear with me on this. If you see something that deviates from the books or find something that you have a strong opinion on, leave a comment and I'll do what I can for it when I get back. Enjoy and see you guys when I can.

 **Disclaimer** : Game of Thrones is not mine.

 **Summary** : Jon Snow rose from the blaze of the pyre, hair and eyes burning, skin blistered but unburnt, brandishing a flaming Valyrian steel sword. The look on Alliser Thorne's face was one of disbelief and dread and Melisandre smiled. "Fire cannot kill a dragon, Alliser Thorne." she told him and walked away.

* * *

"Jon!" Sansa called to him as he walked away. "Jon!"

Jon reluctantly stopped and pinched the bridge of his nose. Speaking with his brothers had been premature. He should've taken Sam's advice and left it for tomorrow but there was nothing to be done now. The truth was out.

He turned to Sansa. "What?" he asked.

"Do you believe what Melisandre is saying?" she asked, a frown on her face. "That the Wall is melting?"

"I don't know what to believe when it comes to her." Jon told her honestly. "But we should gather forces just the same. The Night's King has an army of a hundred thousand, maybe more, and they march for the Wall."

Jon backed up on the wall to lean his aching limbs. His injuries were wearing him down but he forced himself to keep upright. He needed to be strong. His father—no, his _uncle_ —had told him to be stronger. He will not disappoint him.

Sansa sighed. "Then you should gather your council, Jon." she suggested. When she saw the look on his face she amended. "Or at least the ones you trust. You cannot do this by yourself. You must find out if what Melisandre is saying is true or not and you have to decide what to do with the traitors."

"I will speak to them." Jon said.

"Of course you will." Sansa agreed, waving it away impatiently. "But what happens after?"

Jon frowned and it was his turn to sigh. Sansa stepped closer and put a hand on his shoulder, her blue eyes smoldering with a fire that reminded Jon of her mother.

"Father had always taught us that if we swore an oath, then justice must be served if we break them. No matter who we are." she said. "They swore an oath, Jon, and they broke it."

"Ollie is just a child, Sansa." he whispered, his brow coming together.

"So were we when they killed Father." Sansa retorted. Her face grimaced angrily at the mere memory of that day. "Jeoffrey made me look at his head up on a spike along with our septa and everyone we've ever known."

Jon looked horrified, his body tensing and Sansa hissed further. "Bran was crippled and he and Rickon and Arya are lost to gods know where. Robb was—"

"Sansa," Jon interrupted her, his heart sinking like metal thrown into the sea. "Bran and Rickon are dead. Theon killed them and burned them."

Sansa shook her head, her face turning into a hopeful one. "No, they're not. Theon told me he couldn't find them. He killed a farmer's sons and burned them so no one would recognize them. They're out there somewhere, Jon, lost."

Jon's head raced at the possibility of seeing his family again. The sound of their laughter and the sight of their smiles seemed as if it belonged to another lifetime. A life where he had thought that the worst thing to be in the world was a bastard. But now, he'd rather be just the bastard of Winterfell if it meant seeing his family whole again and the horror that befell his family was nothing but a long, disturbing nightmare. But he didn't think it was possible to wake up from reality.

"We can find them again. All of them. Bran, Rickon and Arya. We can bring them home." Jon said, filled with hope. "What else did Theon tell you? He's in Winterfell, isn't he? Captured by the Boltons? If we can find a way to take Winterfell back, we can question—"

"He's dead, Jon." Sansa said, her eyes turning sad.

Jon's face fell, feeling as if the wind had just been knocked out of him. "What?"

"Ramsey's wench was about to shoot me with an arrow when he pushed her away and she fell from the parapet. Ramsey will have punished us terribly for it. So, we jumped off the walls and he saved me from the fall." Sansa told him. "Theon's sins were unrepaid but he died saving me."

Jon closed his eyes. His bubble of hope diminishing ever so slightly.

"Meet with your council, Jon." Sansa said, her chin raised a little higher and her eyes colder than snow. Jon was reminded that his sister is not only a lady but she is also a wolf. "I will follow you in whatever you choose to do."

With that, she took her leave. Jon was left leaning on the corridor, feeling absolutely torn and confused.

 _You know nothing, Jon Snow._ Ygritte would say. As he limped his way to the lift to carry him up to the wall, he can't help but feel the hollow aching in his heart throb even harder as he thought about the woman he loved and lost.

* * *

When Jon was standing on the top of the Wall, he heard someone approaching from behind. He reached for Longclaw and it sang as it slid off its scabbard. Jon's eyes were a little panicked but when he saw it was only Sam, he felt his cheeks color. The red blade glowed by Sam's neck and he realized he would have easily cut his dear friend's throat if he had so much as shook his blade.

He retracted the sword and he looked away.

"I'm sorry." he murmured.

Sam nodded. "It's all right." he said. "You've just been murdered, Jon. I think I would be a bit jumpy, too."

Jon nodded.

"Do you know how that happened?" Sam asked, pointing at Longclaw.

Jon shook his head. "No," he murmured, inspecting the blade on his hand. Ygritte would probably be feasting on him by now with her knowing, secretive smirk and a smug little light in her eyes. He almost smiled at the thought but chose to answer Sam's question further. "I don't know lots of things."

"Well, it looks a lot more menacing now, doesn't it?" Sam said, trying to cheer him up. Jon merely sighed as he shrugged and sheathed it back in its place but kept a hand on the hilt. It was more for his comfort than anything else. Sam was right. He had just been murdered and now, to be as defenseless as he had been when they had tricked him and killed him made him anxious. He turned away from Sam and faced north, his eyes scanning the fortifications of the Wall.

"What do you see?" Sam asked. Jon didn't answer for a few moments.

"See the ice?" Jon asked and Sam came closer to look down at the Wall. "It's peeling off. The snow's falling gradually. It's not just there, it's on the west side too. The castles there may just be buried in snow by now. The east side looks like it's not far behind. I can hear the ice cracking like someone's stepping on the thinner parts of a frozen lake. Like it's moving from the inside, unraveling itself."

"Then it really is melting then?" Sam asked. Jon did not reply yet the grim look in his eyes were answer enough. "How long do you think it'll last?"

"I don't know." Jon confessed. "Months? Weeks? Days?"

"What do you plan to do, Jon?" Sam asked.

Jon gripped the hilt of Longclaw even tighter. "Be sure we're ready when it falls."

* * *

"Griff," the little prince hissed. "Griff?"

The right-hand of the Golden Company sighed. The boy had been relentless ever since the passing of the second red star. Morning, noon and night had Jon Connington been tirelessly listening to the little prince whine, cuss and strategize for the once good knight to get on the move yet the man refused. His spies had been reporting that Daenerys Stormborn is missing, most had presumed her dead. Now, a Lannister governs Meereen as regent and they're plan to join the queen must be delayed until further notice, to put it kindly, but the little prince insists on going.

 _Why would my aunt trust the Lannister if he's not trustworthy_ , he asks.

 _Daenerys is the Mother of Dragons and the Unburnt so she is not dead_ , he says.

 _Griff, I think you're just a little paranoid and judgmental of dwarves_ , he declares.

Day in and day out, Griff grits his teeth, sighs exasperatedly and pinches the bridge of his nose but the little prince still goes on and on and on. He is too old for dealing with young, hyperactive boys.

"Jon," he says and it makes Jon blanch. He said it more than as a boy or more than as a little prince. When Jon turns to see the boy, he wasn't there. On that spot, stood a prince, yes, but he wasn't little. There stood the rightful king of all the kingdoms. His hair was finally rid of the ridiculous blue that he dyes and his eyes are fully purple, no illusion, no tricks with the light. His handsome face was almost cherub-like and the wind blowing through his silvery locks makes him look ethereal. There stands the Targaryen crown prince who will claim all that was his and more. There stands his hope.

"We will march, Jon, with or without you." he said almost sadly. "Meereen is in chaos. My aunt needs my aid. She's the last of my blood, Jon. Please."

Jon sighed, pinched the bridge of his nose for maybe the hundredth time in the lat few days.

"What say you, Ser Connington?" Aegon Targaryen asks, his lips stretching into a smug, infectious grin that Jon can't help but smile in return. "Will you follow me?"

 _For Rhaegar_ , he thinks. _For my Silver Prince_.

"To the ends of the world." he answers.

* * *

Jon Snow's solar was now filled with people he thought that could offer him the best contributions.

There was Tormund who had taken to stand by the door like a sentry, still somewhat pissed that Jon had been murdered and that the murderers were still breathing. Ser Davos Seaworth stood by the window while Melisandre stood opposite him across the room like two opposing poles, each trying to oust each other with their gaze. Brienne of Tarth and Pod were there with Sansa who sat on the chair in front of Jon, her face unfathomable. Then finally, there was Sam and Edd.

Jon himself was seated behind his desk, his injuries weighing him down but refused to rest until they had answers to their questions.

"How did you know that the Wall was melting?" he asked Melisandre.

"It came to me in a vision as I slept." she said. "The Wall shattered and fell to the ground. The dead marching south. There's a war coming. A war unlike anyone has ever seen and it starts when that Wall falls. The birth of Azor Ahai has set everything in motion."

The mention of Azor Ahai had Ser Davos gripping the hilt of his blade a little tighter.

"Azor Ahai?" Jon asked.

"You, my lord." Melisandre said with a little smirk on her face. "The Lord of Light has chosen you. I told you that there is power in you and you resist it. Now, it has been awakened and you must fulfill the role that you were born to do."

"Which is what?" Jon asked.

"To save us all." Melisandre answered. Everyone turned to look at Jon with curious expressions on their faces and he immediately felt uncomfortable. It was one thing to be told by the dead that you were destined for something greater than anything he could imagine, it was quite different being said out loud, outside a dream and with the living. It made it seem more difficult to accomplish. It made him feel as if a sword hung atop every person in this room and to all the rest of the Seven Kingdoms and beyond. Winter would cover the world and plunge it in death and destruction and, apparently, he was whom the gods chose to stop it.

Jon wished Melisandre would just keep her mouth shut about some matters.

"Destiny or not, you're already on that path, Jon. You're already doing all you can." Sam reassured him in that nervous way of his. "There's no need to think too much about it."

Jon nodded slowly. "Sam's right. It doesn't matter to me whether your god chose me or not. I will do everything I could to protect all of the realm. Plus, we have other more pressing concerns." he said. "We don't know how much time we have left before the Wall breaks. We don't have an army to fight them and we don't have enough weapons to kill them."

"So, we get more blades." Ser Davos said.

"They can only die by three things," Edd said, three of his fingers held out to emphasize his point. "One is fire, two is dragon glass and third is Valyrian steel. We have none of those in abundance."

"Dragonstone is filled with dragon glass." Davos suggested. "If King Stannis survived—"

"King Stannis is dead." Brienne declared. Everyone stood absolutely still. Ser Davos frowned at Brienne.

"Forgive me, my lady, how can you be sure?" Ser Davos asked with a hard look in his eye. "You weren't even in the battle."

Pod shifted uncomfortably while Brienne stood straighter. She looked Ser Davos right in the eye, her hands firmly clasped on her front.

"Because I killed him." she said. "For the murder of Renly Baratheon."


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N** : Hi, guys! So, tomorrow is my board exam and I just got out of the hospital and wow. I really went through the grinder to get where I am right now. So, I know this may seem a little overdone, this little talk they have here but it's really all I can write so far. And I wanted to clear things out before we can proceed to anything else. But don't worry. It ain't going to be all talk forever. I have so much in store for you lovely readers. Just you wait. After the board exams, I am a free elf! Or woman. Whichever. Okay. I hope you have fun reading this and hopefully, I'll see you next week.

P.S. For those of you who are wondering if this is a Sansa/Jon or Dany/Jon fic, like I said before: NO, IT IS NOT. I'm sorry but unless the characters are Lannisters or full blooded Targaryens, I don't really agree with the incest. Especially with the Starks. They're too honorable for that.

ANOTHER P.S. Special thanks to Trap3r for the correction and valued advice. This chapter wouldn't be as good as it is now without you so thanks, mate.

And another special thanks to Ali G for your comment a long time ago. Honestly, whenever I write a chapter for this story, your advice resonates in my head. So, yeah thanks to you as well.

(THIS CHAPTER IS RE-POSTED)

So, yeah. Again, enjoy.

 **Disclaimer** : Game of Thrones is not mine.

 **Summary** : Jon Snow rose from the blaze of the pyre, hair and eyes burning, skin blistered but unburnt, brandishing a flaming Valyrian steel sword. The look on Alliser Thorne's face was one of disbelief and dread and Melisandre smiled. "Fire cannot kill a dragon, Alliser Thorne." she told him and walked away.

* * *

Jon felt immeasurable irk when Ser Davos had almost hacked Lady Brienne's head clean off her shoulders.

The only thing that had saved her was her quick reflexes while Pod, bless the lad, had the wits to drag Sansa out of the way of the two battling warriors.

"That's enough!" Jon yelled and groaned, his hand coming to reach his chest. Sam was there in a second as Edd had forced Ser Davos to step away while Pod had now stood in front of Lady Brienne, murmuring to calm herself.

"Jon," Sansa gasped. She stepped forward but Jon held up his other hand to stop her. Davos and Brienne seemed to have noticed Jon's pain now as Sam eased him back to his seat.

"You should be more careful, Jon." he chided.

"Aye," Edd agreed. "You shouldn't even be up."

"I'm fine." Jon said through gritted teeth.

"Stannis confessed what he did." Brienne said. "He—"

"I know what he did!" Davos snapped.

Brienne's eyes widened in fury. "Then maybe you should die too." she hissed.

"I said that's enough." Jon snapped. Everyone turned to look at him again and the two warriors had the grace to look ashamed of their actions. "We're not here to bicker about who killed whose king. Let the dead stay dead. Worry about the living. They may not stay that way soon."

Tormund scoffed and he murmured "Southerners." like it was an insult.

Sansa took her seat again while Edd and Pod had both stepped away from the warriors they minded. Davos and Brienne shared a heated glance before finally looking away and sheathing back their blades. Melisandre looked amused and Jon almost wanted to fling a candle stick at her face just to wipe that smirk off her face. Sam had now retreated somewhere behind his chair, deciding he may need his assistance again through the duration of this gathering. By the way it was going, he most likely will.

"Sam," Jon said when the dust had settled. He glanced at his friend. "Did you send the ravens?"

"Aye," Sam said. "A raven for all the houses in the North, one for Dorne, one for King's Landing, one for the Reach, Riverrun, Highgarden, Casterly Rock, Storm's End and Mereen, addressed to your aunt."

"What did you say?" Sansa asked. "In the letter."

"I wrote, 'The Wall is melting and the White Walkers march south with a hundred thousand undead for an army. The Night's Watch requests for any aid that can be spared. Winter is coming.'"

Sansa nodded. "The Northerners will be the first to know of this as they are the nearest but Roose Bolton is still the warden of the North. We may not receive aid from our bannermen. There's also the possibility that Ramsey will suspect of my presence here in the Wall. He may come for me here."

She cradled her broken wrist closer to her chest and her eyes betrayed a hint of fear even as her voice remained level and composed but everyone in the room noticed how tense her shoulders were. Jon's jaw clenched. That bastard will pay soon enough but for now he had to make sure Sansa remained safely away from the Boltons' reach.

"Sam," Jon said. "I want you to send word to all the bannermen that are still loyal to the Starks."

Sansa's eyes snapped to his. Jon's eyes were a hard dark greys that resembled a storm.

"Tell them their queen awaits them at the wall."

Sam nodded and noted it on a little parchment he had conjured somewhere.

"Jon—" Sansa protested.

"Robb is dead." Jon said, feeling that sharp piercing pain he felt every time he remembered his dead cousin whom he'll always see as a brother. "Roose Bolton can call himself the lord of Winterfell all he wants but the North will only truly follow a Stark. Besides that, Robb had been king. He had no heir and you are the next eldest Stark. You should be queen."

Sansa's eyes widened at the thought but she merely gulped and nodded in agreement.

"First, we must retake Winterfell from the Boltons." he announced with a voice that echoed an authority worthy of a lord. For a moment, Jon reminded Sansa of her brother, Robb, and her father. "Then we crown you, Sansa Stark, the rightful warden of the North and heir of his grace, Robb Stark, the King of the North, as queen."

"You plan to retake Winterfell? With what army?" Edd asked in disbelief. Everyone seemed to be wondering the same except for Ser Davos, whose face began once again to harden in anger.

"You're the Commander of the Night's Watch." Davos hissed almost scathingly. "Isn't your duty bound to all the realms of men and the Wall, as you were so fond of saying to Stannis?"

Jon's face contorted into a grimace.

He was right. As Lord Commander of the Night's Watch, he vowed to claim no land or title and swore to never trifle with the disputes of the realm and yet here he was, planning to reclaim Winterfell and the North for his cousin. Once again, he finds himself at a crossroad.

 _Family or duty?_

It was a decision he had always struggled with from the very start. The first had been when Lord Stark's imprisonment in the capital and Robb had called his bannermen to war. The second was when Lord Stark had lost his head in the hands of the Lannisters. It was only because of Sam and the others that he had managed to keep his vows by preventing him from going. The third had been with Ygritte.

When he thought back to the decisions he'd chosen over the years, he found himself unsure of whether he'd done the right thing at all. If he had left to aid Robb, he might've done something to save him and maybe he'd still be alive today, marching against the Lannisters, maybe even winning the war and ultimately avenging his family. If he had chosen to stay with Ygritte, maybe she would have lived as well, standing by his side and offering him the wisdom and love she had always seemed to give in peculiar ways.

 _You know nothing, Jon Snow._

But the dead was dead and they are all waiting for him at the end of this life and into the next. He would see them again. That much he knew.

But now comes the time to decide again.

 _Family or duty?_

Jon looked away to his solar's window. It was small and partially closed to stave off the winter winds. He can hear the brothers of the Night's Watch going about their day below, the clanking of metal and the sound of swishing arrows. He can smell the ice and the smoke from the hearths, feel the chills through his furs. He calls Castle Black his home but deep in his bones, during the darkest nights, he dreams of his true home.

When he came to a decision, he locked gaze with Ser Davos again.

"Our duty ends with our death." Jon decided and he prays to whichever god that listens that this decision is not one he'll regret. "Thanks to my brothers, I've recently been deceased. My watch has ended. I am free to do as I please. I will resign as Lord Commander and help Sansa reclaim the North."

Davos only glowered harder.

There was a loud guffaw by the door. "Too bad the first crows didn't consider havin' one of their own comin' back from the dead." Tormund snickered.

"They would have probably just kill them again because they'll think they were wights." Sam told him politely.

"Good point." Tormund told him.

"But Jon," Sansa spoke up. "Ser Edd is right. We have no armies, no navy and no supporters. We have no gold to pay sellswords and to afford a siege in this winter."

It secretly surprised Jon that Sansa of all people would know so much about war and its demands. But then again, she had been in King's Landing during a siege and again in Winterfell when Stannis had come to take the North. She would've had first-hand experience with the casualties of war.

"Even if our bannermen will answer to our call," she continued. "We still won't have enough men to defeat Bolton and Walder Frey's army for surely he will at least send a few hundred men to Bolton's aid. We don't even have that much. The Watch will— _must_ — never abandon their post and the Wildlings aren't our people." She turns to look at Tormund and he nods in agreement. "They will not fight in a war that isn't theirs."

Jon couldn't be prouder than he was with Sansa. Gone was the sister whose only dream was to become a queen and whose greatest accomplishments were weaving beautiful patterns on a cloth. In her place was an intelligent, strong woman who went through the worst of hell but came out as a queen of her own right. He hid his smile as she straightened in her seat with her chin high as she chose countless lives over her own birthright.

"Winterfell can wait." she continued. "As you said, we must gather forces for the Long Night. We must seek out Daenarys Stormborn and her dragons. Dragon fire is the key to this war. Furthermore, Essos holds most of the legends about Azor Ahai. If Lady Melisandre," she turns to look at the priestess. "Claims you to be the Promised Prince, the Lord of Light's champion, maybe they will be more likely to listen and we can win their favor. We can even build relations with the Martells. The Tyrells may be reasoned with but it's unlikely seeing as one of their own rules King's Landing. The Riverlands are controlled by Walder Frey unless we can save Uncle Edmure from captivity. The Vale is under Littlefinger's control and Storm's End's bannermen are scattered and in disarray. We will have to wait and see how they would fair after Stannis's defeat before making decisions about taking them into the fold. The Lannisters can rot for all I care."

Now, Jon didn't stop the grin that stretched his face. This was the part of Sansa Jon is beginning to admire. "Well said, dear cousin." he complemented.

Sansa smiled at the complement and then chewed her lip. "Although, if Tyrion Lannister lived, maybe we could use him to marshal the West."

"The Imp?" Jon asked aloud, curiosity in his voice.

"Yes," Sansa said. "He had always been good to me and reasonable beyond a doubt. He single-handedly raised King's Landing from the ground when Cersei and her monster of a son, Joffrey, plunged it to seven hells. He may be swayed to our cause."

Jon nodded. "I agree. He has a pretty smart head on his shoulders."

"Lady Sansa's words speaks wisdom, my prince." Melisandre announced. Jon hid his shiver of displeasure at the title. "You must sail east to the Free Cities to hold court with the Dragon Queen. You will need to work together to fulfill your destiny. The prophecy spoke of three dragon heads and it is not a coincidence that there are three dragons born to Queen Daenarys."

"You're saying that Jon and Daenarys Stormborn are both heads of the dragon?" Sam asked.

"Yes," Melisandre said. "They are."

"If there are three, and Jon and this queen are two, who's the third?" Edd asked.

Melisandre looked disappointed as she said. "I do not know."

"I have once heard that Rhaegar Targaryen was obsessed with this prophesy." Davos gruffly mentioned and Jon turned to him at the mention of his trueborn father.

"How did you hear about it?" Jon asked.

"Rumors." Davos answered. "The pirates gossip like fishwives."

"Maybe another Targaryen yet lives." Sam suggested. All eyes turned to him and he shifted nervously. "I'm just saying it's completely possible. Who knows how many Targaryens are secretly out there. We never even knew Jon was one until he died. No offence."

Jon shook his head. "It doesn't matter. Let's put it aside for now." he said. "It is decided then. I resign as Lord Commander of the Night's Watch." Jon was surprised to feel immeasurable relief to have abdicated his command. "Sail to Mereen to speak with Queen Daenarys, broker other alliances with anyone who has the power and resources we need and gain an army to liberate the North. Rally the Seven Kingdoms to defeat the White Walkers and put an end to the apocalypse."

"Sounds about right." Edd nodded.

"We can use Winterfell as our base of operations when we fight the undead." Sansa suggested, her eyes calculating. "No one can argue that it's the most practical stronghold for the Long Night and the most appropriate."

Jon agreed. "Then it's also only appropriate to have a Stark occupying Winterfell when the real war starts."

Sansa grins and Jon cannot help but smile back to his little cousin. It was a brilliant, well calculated move. It hit both birds with one arrow by simultaneously avenging their family, reclaiming their home and calling it a strategic strike for the upcoming war.

"It seems you have it all figured out, Jon Snow." Tormund said. "What you say we finish this gathering so that I can send my men home to their families?"

"Aye," Jon agrees and everyone prepares to leave. Tormund was the first through the door, followed by his black brothers. "Edd, tell the men we will have another vote for the next Lord Commander on the morrow."

"Aye, Lord Commander Snow." Edd says for it will probably be the last time to call him as such and Sam goes through the door with him. Sansa bids him a low good night and he let his cousin with her lady guard and Pod go to rest. Davos sends him another angry look before turning away to leave. Which left the Lady Melisandre.

Jon couldn't have the energy to hide his sigh of exasperation.

"We must talk, my prince." she says.

"Don't call me that." Jon tells her. She ignores him. She steps forward until she is right in front of his desk.

"There is no time to think, _my prince_ , only act. They are coming for the Wall. They can feel its magic fading. My powers are already waning along with it. Soon, they will overrun and overpower all of us. You _must_ accept who you are and the role you will play in this war." she tells him, her eyes filled with determination. "Now, we must talk about your growing powers."


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N** : I totally forgot that Jon knew Bran was north of the wall so he knew Bran and Rickon were actually alive but let's just say for arguments' sake, that he thought they were. It'll be like a little AU. Plus, I'm too lazy to change the previous chapter. Change one little tidbit and everything else follows. You guys know the drill. Sorry I took too long in updating. Been busy at work and I passed my board exam so hooray! It was worth it. But yes. Without further ado: the next chapter. Enjoy.

P.S. So, I have a dilemma. Care to help me solve it? So, should I have a real Aegon or not to complete the trio dragons? Leave a comment on what you think I should do and I'll consider it.

 **Disclaimer** : Game of Thrones is not mine.

 **Summary** : Jon Snow rose from the blaze of the pyre, hair and eyes burning, skin blistered but unburnt, brandishing a flaming Valyrian steel sword. The look on Alliser Thorne's face was one of disbelief and dread and Melisandre smiled. "Fire cannot kill a dragon, Alliser Thorne." she told him and walked away.

* * *

Jon Connington felt his old bones start to creak as they continued to march on to Mereen.

A scout had been sent ahead to warn the Imp that the Golden Company are coming to see the queen and the scout returned with an invitation to the hospitality of the free city. He didn't know if the Lannister was a naïve imbecile or a cunning little beast. Maybe a bit of both. Either way, Jon Connington cared little. Aegon is brimming with excitement. He rode beside Jon with his back straight and proud and Jon couldn't help but feel a swell of pride. He cannot believe how much the little boy he had sworn to protect had grown. Not only was Aegon a natural born leader but he was also just and fair, brimming with the desire to prove himself a man capable of his birthright. Jon may be Rhaegal's loyal friend and follower but he had raised the prince since he was little. His little silver prince had come to be like a son to him.

"There it is!" Aegon breathed. He looked up to see the great city of Mereen, built upon centuries of hard labor of slaves but turned to truly be a free city. Jon grunted again, not caring in the least. Aegon rolled his eyes. Jon didn't really give that much thought either. He's busy making sure he has just enough contingency plans for whichever outcome this visit will end up on.

* * *

"Welcome to Mereen." A voice announced.

Jon turned to see a small man with a hideous scar across his face. He had a shaggy golden mane on his head and hinted with the scent of liquor. He could be no other than Tyrion Lannister. He had a bald man behind his steps, hands clasped inside his long, silk robes. They stared at each other with neutral expressions, giving nothing away as was customary with the game they play. This one Jon knew quite well. Varys.

"I am—"

"Tyrion Lannister, son of the mighty Tywin." Jon announced for him. The smaller man seemed to have stiffened and looked a little guarded.

"It seems I am at a disadvantage." he says with a tight, calculating smile. "You know my name yet I do not know yours."

"This is Jon Connington, the former hand of the king of the late King Aerys II." Varys answered for the man. Tyrion contained his surprise and smiled.

"You're alive?" Tyrion asked tactlessly although it had been more a statement than a question to begin with.

"Were you expecting otherwise?" Jon huffed.

"Assumed otherwise more like it." countered Tyrion. Jon grunted.

There was a cough from somewhere on Jon's right and he turned to see the young prince's expectant face.

"My lords, may I introduce Aegon Targaryen VI, son of Rhaegar, rightful king of the Seven Kingdoms." Jon introduced as Aegon stepped forward. He had a polite smile on his face but his eyes measured all that were before him, gauging the expressions of his would-be allies.

Tyrion's eyes widened slightly before settling back into his politician façade.

"Well, this is a surprising turn of events." Tyrion commented casually but his eyes held a hint of skepticism.

"I'm here to help you find my aunt." Aegon declared. Tyrion gave him a look that seemed almost exasperated. Aegon tried his best not to bristle with indignation.

"I'm afraid you are too late, my lord." Tyrion said the last two words with emphasis as if it implied something. Jon is already beginning to dislike this Lannister as well. "The searching party has already been deployed. In a few days' time, I have no doubt the queen will return to us unharmed and safe. In the meantime, you are welcome to stay and wait for an audience with her grace."

Aegon gave Tyrion a knowing smirk. "Lord Tyrion, you misunderstand me." he said.

"How could have I misunderstood you, my lord?" Tyrion asked with a frown on his face. "You mean to help us find the queen and I—"

"And you told me that the search party has been deployed." Aegon said. "I have no intention of joining the search party."

Tyrion looked perplexed. "Well, what did you mean then?" he asked.

Aegon smiled wider. "Show me where she keeps the other two dragons."

* * *

It was well past midnight that Jon had been able to climb into bed.

His body didn't seem tired despite his healing injuries but his mind and heart are pushed to its limits. Here, in the solitude of his quarters, he thinks of these past few days. His brothers killed him. He had died. Then, he lived again.

 _Reborn_ , Melisandre had said.

She said a lot of things, Jon realized. She said a lot of things that he doesn't think he can believe or accept so he puts those thoughts away for now.

He doesn't even know how to be this great hero to begin with. He didn't know if he could be this savior prophesized to lead all of humanity to a war against the White Walkers. He'd been _murdered_ by his own men for decisions he'd thought had been the right thing to do. _Still_ believe to have been the right thing to do. How can he be this promised prince if he can't even make the right choices?

He rubs a hand down his face and sigh deeply.

 _You know nothing, Jon Snow._

She's still right.

* * *

 _JON!_

Sansa woke up with a strangled cry trying to burst free from her throat.

She felt disoriented, looking around wildly until reality caught up with her and she tries to breathe. Instead of exhaling, she sobs and sobs until she feels herself cracking.

 _It was just a nightmare. Just another nightmare_ , she tries to tell herself.

She wraps her furs tightly around her and was thankful she wasn't heard. The last thing she needs is someone bursting through her door and sees her in a wreck. It takes a while but eventually she controls herself enough and breathes in deep and slow until her heart stops hammering in her chest. She runs her palms through her face, wiping away her tears and tries to fall back to sleep.

She resolved to tell Jon to do something about the traitors before she loses her mind.

She doesn't think she can handle seeing him die again in her dreams.

So, she doesn't sleep.

* * *

 _Jon Snow._

He was flying, wings outstretched wide with his eyes zooming through the forest below him. Something has called him here, a power he does not recognize but it's as familiar as his own blood, whispering his name in the night.

 _Jon Snow._

Jon decided to descend near the weirwood tree, making a few circles around it before settling on the snow covered ground. He doesn't dare to perch on the branches. He has a feeling whomever calls to him will not appreciate it. He settles and he waits.

 _Jon Snow._

There it was again.

A crunching noise is heard from behind him and he squawks as he turns to a blue eyed corpse. It reaches down with inhuman speed and its dead cold hands are around Jon. He struggles with all his might but the hands prove too strong. The last thing he feels is his head being torn off his neck as the wight's teeth closes around him.

He bolts awake, breathing heavily, to find Sansa by the door with apprehension in her eyes.

"You were dreaming." Sansa tells him worriedly.

He shakes his head.

"I don't think it was a dream." he murmurs. He cups his head and he closes his eyes. The Red Priestess' words swirling in his head.

 _Your powers will only grow as this war continues. You must not resist, my prince. Learn them. Use them. They are given to you for a purpose._ She tells him.

"Jon?" Sansa says timidly and he snaps back to the present. That's when he notices Sansa's red swollen eyes, fatigue burdening her shoulders and fear painting her beautiful face. Her injured hand is cradled closer to her body, a movement Jon has learned to associate with vulnerability when it came to Sansa.

"Sansa," he says as he stands and takes the three strides to reach her. "What's wrong?"

She shakes her head but her eyes began to fill with tears. "Nothing, I—"

She clamps her mouth shut and grits her teeth, looking away from her cousin. Jon puts a hand on her shoulder and another to her cheek. She looks up and his chest constricts at the sorrow he saw in her eyes.

"What's wrong?" he asks more firmly, a worried frown settling on his brows. Sansa was breathing heavily and Jon thought she would break down and cry when suddenly, there's steel in her eyes and anger in her pretty face.

"You need to do something about the prisoners. Kill them already. They do not deserve to live any longer than they already have." she says fiercely as if she was giving a command. Jon involuntarily takes a step back at her ferocity, his hands dropping back at his sides. When he steps away from her, she immediately looks hurt and guilty, looking anywhere but at Jon.

"What's gotten into you, Sansa?" Jon asks sadly.

"I— I –" Sansa stammered, looking like the lost child that she was. But for the second time that morning, her eyes steeled and this time, for a completely different reason. She looks Jon in the eye and he was glad to see more of her mother in her than the girl who had demanded him death merely seconds ago. "I know that I was never truly genuine with my affections with you when we were young, Jon." She begins and Jon would have interrupted if she did not continue to negate whatever he would have said to appease her.

"I was horrible to you and I deserve none of your kindness. But you're my family." Sansa's voice was a mere whisper as she pleaded with him. She sucked in a sob that threatened to deter her from what she needed to say. "The only family I may have left. So, please, for me. I can't sleep knowing that they are a threat to you. I can't sleep while they get to keep their lives after what they did, after all you've done for them. I can't sleep until I know that they got everything they deserve."

"Killing them wouldn't change anything, Sansa." Jon whispers back, stepping forward again and held her shoulders, reasoning with her. "I was dead, yes, but I'm alive. I _lived_. You'll never be alone again. I promise."

She looks at him sadly, as if she saw Robb, her father and her mother in him. As if she saw all the loved ones that they have lost in him.

"You are the Lord Commander." she says, looking away. "I will trust that you will make the right decision."

With that, she fled away from him and Jon was the one left alone.

* * *

Jon descended into the castle's dungeons. He can hear the men moving as he approached and only Longclaw on his hip can make him feel at ease as he trudged further into the poorly lit cells. This was a meeting he'd finally finished putting on hold. With Sansa's distress and his final day as Lord Commander, he had no choice but to face what awaits him at the end of the dungeons. Sam and Edd had both offered to accompany him on his confrontation but he gratefully declined. This was a meeting between him and his murderers.

He needed to face this alone so that he can put it to rest and sleep soundly again.

"Well, well, well," Alliser Thorne said, sarcasm dripping from his voice, as Jon stopped in front of his cell. His voice echoed through the walls so Jon had no doubt that all the other men can hear them. He can feel the others moving closer, breathing loudly; he can feel their gaze on him. "If it isn't the undead Lord Commander. The last time you told us a man rose from the dead, he was a wight."

"I'm not a wight." Jon said. Alliser snorted.

"No?" Alliser said as he got up to press his hands on the bars with a sneer on his face. "Then what are you?"

"I was your Lord Commander." Jon said. "And you murdered me."

Alliser snorted. "Tried to." he murmured.

"I want to know why."

"Why? _Why_?!" Alliser growled. "Because you were a damned fool who may have just killed us all!"

Jon can hear a murmur of agreement from the others but they didn't dare to speak aloud. He saw Alliser standing straighter like a peacock with a dirty smirk on his face. He looked upon the other dark cells from the corner of his eyes, never truly turning away from Alliser and saw them all pressing their faces on the bars except for Ollie, who remained huddled on the corner, listening but avoiding Jon's eye.

Jon had known these men for years. He had fought with them, broke bread with them and called them brothers. They weren't capable of hatching up some plan in the dead of night to lead him to his death, as much as they wanted to. These men were sheep who followed blindly to the blade and Jon wanted to know why the shepherd had lead them there in the first place before he was to pass judgment.

Jon let the silence fall once again before speaking. "That's their reason." Jon said, his gaze piercing through Alliser. "I want to know what's yours."

Alliser's glower became harder but Jon held his ground. He found that he had grown stronger since he had died. The cold didn't bother him as much as it had before, as if a fire burned inside him as he slept, never truly cold despite having the winter coming to a hideous turn. His heart was as calm as a mountain lake, strength seeping into him through the fatigue and his injuries are healing faster than it should, the wounds already closing and well underway to disappearing as if he had never died at all when he had checked them this morning.

Melisandre was right about his growing powers and it frightened him as well as it exhilarated him.

Jon realized that he had been foolish for his apprehension of Alliser Thorne.

He was no one but a man while Jon was a dragon as well as a wolf.

"Why did you kill me?" Jon hissed. Alliser glowered at him for a long time before speaking.

"Because you are Ned Stark's bastard." he said simply.

Jon blinked. He was so mightily stunned and incensed he didn't know if he should laugh or drive his blade up this man's chest. "What?" he gritted out.

"You're Lord Stark's _bastard_." Alliser repeated as if it was an insult. Perhaps, once it was. But it means nothing to Jon now. "I fought for the Targaryens when he and his fat, whoring friend laid waste to all the kingdoms for Lyanna Stark. All for a _woman_!Fools! All of them! I was a _knight_!" he raged, his face turning red. "A respected knight of King's Landing and they sent me off to this cursed wall along with these cravens, murderers and rapists!"

Jon was oddly rendered speechless.

"When the time comes, and _it_ is upon us, the Targaryens will rise again." Alliser hissed. "I will leave this useless lump of a wall and serve them once more. That is why I killed you, bastard! Because your father was an honorable fool and an _usurper_!"

Jon couldn't help it any longer. He laughed.

Alliser looked startled for a moment before his face morphed into an enraged sneer.

"What are you laughing about?!" he snapped.

Wary glances were exchanged from the other prisoners but Jon didn't care. Suddenly, all his doubts as a commander lifted away from his shoulders. No, this betrayal had not been because of his inability to command or of his decisions. This had been because of a decade or so old grudge for Eddard Stark, who isn't even Jon's father. It seemed utterly ridiculous. His death at the hands of a Targaryen loyalist? Isn't this an ironic turn of events.

"I'm laughing because you're an idiot, Alliser Thorne." Jon chuckled, looking at the imbecile with pity. "But if it weren't for you, I never would've known who my mother was." Jon paused briefly for effect. "Or my father. I should thank you for that."

Alliser looked indignant and confused. "What are you talking about, bastard?"

Jon couldn't help feeling a righteous satisfaction by telling this fool of a man that he had not only offended and slighted but also failed the house he claims to serve. Because Jon is no mere bastard son who had dragon blood coursing through his veins. He was Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark's son.

"When you killed me, I had a vision of my mother." Jon confessed almost casually, his voice hinting a sarcastic bite in his words. "She told me the truth about my birth. She told me who I was."

"What does this has to fucking do with anything? She was nothing but a nameless whore!" Alliser snapped but his eyes showed apprehension.

"Her _name_ was Lyanna Stark." Jon growled. His eyes darkened, angry that Alliser had insulted his mother. "And I am the _son_ of Rhaegar Targaryen."

Alliser's sneer disappeared from his face. Dawning horror took its place as Alliser paled considerably.

"YOU LIE!" he screamed, hitting the bars. "YOU'RE A LYING BASTARD, SON OF A TAVERN SLUT!"

"Didn't you know, Ser Alliser?" Jon mocked. "Fire cannot kill a dragon."

Jon smiled bitterly as Alliser began to breathe faster, the shock taking over him and went as rigid as a man can possibly get.

"I have decided what your punishment would be." Jon announced to all of them. Some of the men had looked resigned to hear of their execution. But Jon hadn't decided to kill them. Not like how they thought anyway. "Since you doubted me so much, I've decided you need to see it for yourselves. You are to accompany me to a journey beyond the wall."

Many of them quivered or looked terrified or both.

"Why?" one of them demanded fearfully.

"I have a business to attend there." Jon said almost sarcastically but it was the truth.

"And if we refuse?" another one asked.

"You'll die anyway." Jon answered quietly. "But if you survive the journey back, then you will be redeemed."

This gave many of the men hope. Alliser Thorne is still as rigid as he left him so he turned to climb back up and away from these dark cells.

"Jon?" a small, timid voice calls out. Jon closes his eyes and turns slowly back around. Olly had tears running down his cheeks and Jon couldn't help but feel the knife this boy had plunged into him days ago.

"I'm sorry."

Jon gritted his teeth and nodded stiffly. "Me too, Olly."

He climbs out and never turns back, taking away whatever light the prisoners had for days with him.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N** : NO, I'VE NOT GIVEN UP ON THIS STORY. NOT YET. hahaha. I know it's almost been a year. It was just difficult to continue at the time. I was busy with school and my board exam until I just finally lost sight of my end game for this story. It's sooo easy to be discouraged or distracted. Plus, Season 6 had gone and passed! How could I top that? Well, I decided I won't even try and just try to absorb the story in. You'll find a lot of the plots are immediately understood as carrying off from where Season 6 left off or what happened during the season. But anyway, now that I'm back and writing another story of GOT, I guess I'm hoping you'd still support me despite my absence. As always, let me know what you think and I hope you enjoy this.

 **Disclaimer** : Game of Thrones is not mine.

 **Summary** : Jon Snow rose from the blaze of the pyre, hair and eyes burning, skin blistered but unburnt, brandishing a flaming Valyrian steel sword. The look on Alliser Thorne's face was one of disbelief and dread and Melisandre smiled. "Fire cannot kill a dragon, Alliser Thorne." she told him and walked away.

* * *

Sansa was running. Running. Running. Always running.

Her paws dug into the soft snow, padding in a rhythm that made her heart exhilaratingly pump in her chest. Her breath was a thick fog and her muscles ached in only a good run could do. She hid behind a tree just beyond the open field, the Wall standing in its full glory before her. The giant ice cracking was loud to her sensitive ears and the scent of dead men lingered in the air.

They were here, lurking, hiding, and waiting.

Sansa was not overly concerned of the dead men. They could never catch her. She was too quick, her vicious canine teeth too sharp for any of them to be any real threat.

There were other creatures to fear in the deep, dark woods beyond the Wall.

Sansa looked up at the dawning, grey sky. The sun had not shown itself for days since the Wall had started to crack. Even a beast like her was frightened of the darkness. Ravens flocked to the Wall like a dark blanket covering what little light shone through the thick clouds and she feels being pulled toward it, yanking her away and away and away—

Until she was flying in a million different pieces.

There was no ground beneath her. No arms to hold her. Only dark wings carrying dark tidings and tiny icicles gripped tightly in her talons. She soared above the Wall and down to castle black where men cried out as she flew straight for her window—

Sansa woke violently as her window crashed open and dozens of black birds began to pour, dropping sharp icicles on her head. A shrill shriek escaped her lips as the door flew open and suddenly Jon and Ghost were there. Ghost snapped his powerful jaws at the birds and many of them lay dead at his feet. Jon snatched her cloak from where she'd draped it and sheltered her from the onslaught of ice. He led her away and without realizing it, she was in his room sitting on his bed.

"Are you all right?" He asked worriedly, his brows coming together and his brown eyes wide in alarm. His palm was very warm against her cheek and she burrowed her face in his hand in comfort only to hiss in pain and Jon murmured, "Stay still. You're hurt."

He got up to reach for a wash cloth and dipped it in cool water before going back to her and wiped the blood from her face. The warmth even seeped through the wet cloth and she sighed in relief. She finds herself feeling safer when Jon is around.

Those brown doe eyes were troubled, his jaw locked tightly in anxiety. She finds herself studying him, her cousin that resembled so much of her late father. Sansa had never appreciated what she had before, taking for granted that the North will remain the same even as she travelled South to marry a prince and become queen. She was silly girl with silly dreams, then. A little girl who had nothing else in her heart and mind but songs and now that she's broken away from the disillusions of knights and princesses, she found a man from the legends itself.

She would never admit out loud how she marveled at Jon for still being who he was despite everything. She knew that no matter how much her mother made him feel unwelcomed in Winterfell, he grew to love the same family she had. Perhaps, even more so than she did. She remembered how Arya would run to Jon for every hurt and smile, how Robb would sling an arm on his shoulders and throw his head back to laugh, how Bran and Rickon would run in circles with Jon right behind them, pretending to be a ghost. But to the young Sansa of before, he was exactly that; a ghost.

The bastard of Winterfell was the taint of the Starks. He was a ghost who haunted their halls with brooding looks and a grim face. He would hide away when a lord or lady would visit Winterfell and he would lurk in the corners and to the back end of the hall with a pained look in his eyes. Sansa now understood what it feels like to be alone, excluded and removed, to have a heart that turned brittle from pain. They mocked and humiliated her in King's Landing, they belittled and isolated her in the Vale, and tormented and beat her in Winterfell.

She'd barely survived. She was barely whole.

But the man before her was still the same boy she'd left without a goodbye another lifetime ago.

He'd kept the same brooding looks and his grim face. He had the same dark curls that softly framed his face and the same direwolf who trailed him as quiet as its name.

Jon was still her ghost but only a different kind now.

He was the ghost of her past, haunting her of what she once had and what she dearly desired to have again.

"What happened?" He suddenly asked in his baritone voice. It startled her out of her reverie and she realized that as she'd been studying him, he had been doing the same. She frowned and looked away.

"I don't know." She answered as she frowned. "The last I remember I'd been dreaming of standing beyond the wall and then flying over Castle Black and then—"

Her eyes widened as she realized what she'd dreamt but she fears saying it aloud.

 _Jon would think I've gone mad_ , Sansa thought. _He won't believe me_.

"You dreamt you were the bird?" He asked quietly. She meets his gaze, surprised.

"How did you—"

Jon smiles reassuringly. "I have the same dreams. I dream I'm in Ghost or in a bird beyond the Wall. The Freefolk call our kind a warg."

"A warg?" Sansa whispers.

"A skin-changer who can enter the minds of beasts." Jon explained. "The Winter Kings of Old were wargs, weren't they? Those old stories Old Nan used to tell us, do you remember them?"

Sansa nodded and swallowed. "I've never done this before."

"Melisandre said that the dragons woke the magic in the world and it's been slowly coming back." Jon shrugged. "Maybe this is why Longclaw looked the way it does or why I came back to life. I don't know. I'm not smart like Sam."

Sansa was surprised that she barked an unladylike snort but Jon's mirroring grin made her feel so warm inside where she only felt cold that she barely cared.

"He wanted to be a wizard." Jon supplied and this time, Sansa laughed in truth. It was a beautiful sound and a foreign one. She'd forgotten what it sounded like after all this time. But Jon's was even better. He chuckled heartily and his eyes were soft, making Sansa feel as if hearing this deep sounding mirth was her light in the impending darkness.

"How do you feel?" He asked when they've settled down, genuinely concerned.

"I'm all right, Jon. Shocked but there are more important things."

Jon frowned as if he disagreed but chose to say nothing and nodded. He slowly stood, throwing the wash cloth back in the basin.

"You can stay here for now. Ghost will look after you. I'll go and have the men clean up the mess in your room." Jon said as he made for the door. He turned back to her and looked at her intensely. "Never hesitate to ask for anything, Sansa. I'll do my best to give you whatever you need."

Sansa smiled sadly. "Thank you, Jon."

With one last smile, he left and Sansa was alone with Ghost. The direwolf took one look at her before padding closer and placed his giant head on her lap to pet. She eagerly tickled him behind the ear as she'd seen Jon do sometimes. She'd even done it herself with Lady before she was killed. Remembering her beautiful direwolf brought another numbed ache in her chest, a feeling she was very familiar with. A feeling she buried deep down, kept too close to her chest as if it was a priceless treasure. But she was left with little choice. She knew the price of wearing your heart on your sleeve. She knew how easily you could lose with only a slip on your mask. A game of thrones is a dangerous gamble of power that she never wanted to play. But play she must if she wanted to survive, if she wanted to live. In a game of thrones, you either way or you die and she would do everything in her power to win not only for herself but also to avenge her family.

To win, she must have power. She must reclaim her seat, she must reclaim the North.

She must be the Queen in the North.

And what she didn't tell Jon was that the dream—running as a beast, flying in a million pieces— was the most powerful she'd ever felt in a long time.

* * *

"Are you sure about this, Jon?" Edd asked apprehensively. He wore a scowl that showed how disapproving he was of Jon's plans but he knew his friend could not be dissuaded. Not even Sansa Stark could do that. So, here they were, the sun barely breaking through the thickness in the sky and the cold morning air biting into their skin, at the gate of Castle Black with the unknown stretching before them, crawling with an undead army led by a king made of ice. Or so the Red Woman said. Edd had no choice but to believe her. She is yet to be wrong about anything.

"I'll be fine, Edd." Jon reassured him. By the look Edd gave him in return, Jon knew it didn't work. "When I get back, the Night's Watch will vote for a new Lord Commander. But until then, I'll leave you in charge."

Edd nodded. "Will do my best."

Jon grinned. "Don't knock it down while I'm gone."

Edd snorted. "Did you just jest? Are you sure that's you in there?"

"Aye," Jon said. "Hold on from burning my body again, would you?"

Edd nodded, falling serious again. "Good luck."

Jon nodded and clapped his friend on his arm. He turned away and glanced at the prisoners huddled fearfully on the side, kept in place by a sneering Ghost. Only Olly and Alliser gave no hint of emotion, expressions frozen in despair on Olly's part and vacant shock on Alliser's. He approached and placed a calming hand on Ghost's head. The sneering minimized but did not relent.

The direwolf's emotions rolled off in waves and Jon felt them all as if it was his own, the fury of a beast and the grief of a lone wolf. There was power that hummed beneath his paws as he padded the snows. It was _his_ territory, _his_ to protect and _his_ to rule. Jon briefly puzzled over it but dismissed it as a problem for later.

"March." He commanded the men quietly. With six of them in total, they strode despondently by with small packs of rations on their heavily cloaked backs. Ghost trailed after them as if he was their warden, keeping them all in line. Jon came last.

With one last glance up to the parapets where Sansa is watching them with a strained look on her injured face. She had coldly disapproved when he'd told her his plan. Their farewell was a sad one, with Sansa's fear palpable in her trembling hands as she embraced him goodbye and her striking blue eyes brimming with tears that Jon knew would not fall in his presence.

The cold indifference she donned now made her look strikingly like her mother that day when they'd been teaching Bran how to draw and aim with a bow a long time ago, when he'd only been a bastard and they were whole and happy. But that was in the past now and something within him kept pushing him to do what needed to be done. So, he turned away from her and he followed the traitors beyond the dark forest with the cracking sound of ice echoing eerily behind them.


End file.
